


Owl Feathers

by Tyranno



Series: Scions [2]
Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, no capes AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 06:51:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20354209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: If anybody wants to guard the Fowl family, they have to go through Juliet first.





	Owl Feathers

Damian waited on the windowsill, his legs crossed and tucked under him. The waxy finish of the sill stuck to his bare feet. His spine was flush with the chilled glass behind him. He stared at a random spot on one of the work mats.

Artemis Fowl was late. By twenty minutes and counting.

Irritation ground at the back of Damian’s throat. It didn’t help that his scars had woken him up far too early that morning, a seizing ache across his breast bone. He hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. The apartment Commons had leant him was too cold and too silent.

Outside, it began to rain.

There was a click as the front door opened and muffled footfalls registered. Damian tilted his head. Three people, one heavier than the other two. He sucked in a cold breath, trying to quell his irritation.

“Hi!” A young woman bounded around the door to the gym. She had a crown of bleach-blonde hair that darkened to black at the roots, and narrow, rich brown eyes, her cheekbones were broad and flat. She was tall, with long hips, and even under her baggy shirt and gym leggings it was clear she was solidly muscled.

Damian unfolded from the windowsill and dropped to the ground. He rolled his shoulders, twisting the stiffness from his spine.

“You must be Damian,” The young woman said, shifting her bag from her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.

Damian inclined his head, “I am.”

Two men entered the gym after the young woman. The big, muscle of a man that Damian recognised as Domovoi Butler, and a shorter, skinnier young man who must be his potential employer, Artemis Fowl. Damian regarded Fowl with a narrow look. It was true Damian and Artemis looked similar, even if Fowl was at least six shades paler than he was. Damian tried not to glare at him.

“Damian,” Artemis said, and his voice was rolling and cool, “This is Juliet. Before we discuss anything further, I would like to see your combat proficiency first hand.”

“What are the rules?” Damian asked, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet.

“Standard wresting rules,” Juliet said, kicking off her shoes, “First to get a three-second pin wins.”

“Disciplines?” Damian asked.

“Anything you want,” Juliet beamed at him, unzipping her hoodie and dropping it on a heap on top of her bag. She seemed brimming with energy as she twisted her lank hair into a high bob.

Damian nodded. He had expected something like this, so had already dressed in gym clothes. He watched Juliet join him standing on the mat. She was an inch or so taller than him, and so had a longer reach.

“Don’t kill each other,” Butler said warily.

“No promises,” Juliet settled her hands on her hips. Her shoulder muscles were developed, and her arms were thick and bunched as she walked. Despite her easy gaze, her body radiated power.

Damian watched her like a hawk, keeping his body loose and guarded without dropping into a familiar ready stance.

“Begin,” Artemis ordered.

Juliet launched herself at him.

Damian swivelled out of the way but was surprised to feel a hand curl around his elbow. Juliet jabbed a foot towards his knee with cracking power but Damian managed to twist out of her grip in time, jumping across the mat.

Juliet raised both fists. She swung one at Damian’s ear, but he ducked. The buffet of displaced air was enough to put Damian’s heart in a lurch. He needed to end the fight before one of those blows connected.

When he ducked under the next swing, Damian aimed a jab at a nerve cluster under her extended arm. She caught the motion out of the corner of her eye and twisted away—but his blow still landed like a knife-strike between her ribs. She recoiled. He took the opportunity to strike again, a blow to her stomach.

Juliet cracked a fist into his skull for that one, and Damian reeled backwards. His head rang like a struck gong.

Juliet was actually smiling at him, as she pressed a hand to her red stomach. When Damian shifted into a wrestling stance, back bowed and arms hanging under him, Juliet’s smile broke into a full, wolfish grin, dropping to mimic his stance.

She was still grinning when Damian pivoted from his heel and kicked her in the head. His foot connected with such a loud slam Damian almost felt a twinge of guilt.

Juliet staggered backwards. Damian didn’t let her recover, aiming another solid hit at her wounded side. She let out air in a pained hiss, staggering further. A swift kick to the back of Juliet’s knees and she collapsed, Damian falling on top of her, pinning her like a cat with a mouse.

The entire fight had happened in under two minutes.

“Impressive,” Butler said, after the three second pin had passed, and Damian had released her. Butler watched him with an unreadable expression.

To her credit, Juliet didn’t seem phased by Damian’s ruthless method. She leapt to her feet, massaging her battered side, “I fell for that so easily. I guess I just wanted to wrestle.”

Damian inclined his head, “You have the gait of a wrestler. I’d guess you’ve only wrestled for a long while, maybe with some boxing thrown in. It’s clear you’ve not brushed up on non-grappling disciplines recently enough—you keep your centre of gravity low even when you’re throwing a punch.”

“You could tell all that from a two-minute fight?” Juliet smiled at him, “You’re right—I’ve been the Jade Princess for a year or so.”

“Jade Princess?” Damian asked.

“You don’t know the Jade Princess?” Juliet stared at him, “I’m the touring wrestling sensation all across America! I was in Cali only last week. Wait, aren’t you American?”

“My father was,” Damian said, somewhat stiffly, “I’ve—not lived there in some time. I was studying with Madame Ko in Egypt.”

“Oh, of course,” Juliet rested her hands on her hips, and then frowned, “Wait, you’ve graduated, right? How old are you?”

Damian pulled down the neck of his shirt to show a blue diamond tattoo under his collarbone, “I’m nineteen.”

“When did you graduate?” Juliet asked, mischievously.

“Two years ago,” Damian said, “I’ve been working with the various government agencies since.”

“Seventeen. Graduated at seventeen,” Juliet beamed, “So you beat the record?”

“Yes, I supposed I did,” Damian said.

Juliet cast a teasing look at Butler, who coughed surreptitiously.

“All that aside,” Artemis said, cool voice cutting through whatever was passing between Butler and Juliet, “I’m impressed with your performance, Mr. Wayne."


End file.
